I remember how a big group of us would walk back up the hill after school, chattering noisily and taking up the whole pavement.
The days of ‘playing out’ until late on some evenings, and the embarrassment of being the first one whose mum came to drag them inside for dinner.
Now, that time had passed. When we saw each other on the street, we would say a quick ‘hello’ and carry on walking.
It had all gone wrong for our group after the first killing took place; we all got up the next morning and saw the flowers covering the spot where he had been killed. The whole neighbourhood was buzzing about how a local boy, Richard, had killed one of his brothers’ friends after he ‘disrespected him.’
After that, our parents kept us indoors for a while, until all the hype had died down. For a while, things pretty much went back to normal – we went back to running up and down the pavements, nearly being run over by cars speeding through the estate, and having water fights on those scorching hot summer nights.
Once winter came, we would spend the evenings sitting in each other’s living rooms, watching Kenan and Kel, Sister Sister, Cousin Skeeter and many more of our pre-adolescent delights.
The night my brother was nearly killed is still fresh in my mind. I was sat in my bedroom, staring out onto the estate, when I heard the usual sounds: a car engine roaring, as it sped up the estate. I was about to turn away from the window, until I heard an unusual sound: gunshots being fired
I saw people in the other houses peering out of their windows; disgustingly, some were even laughing!
As the car lights came closer, I felt a jolt in my stomach when I saw that the person being chased was my older brother. I ran down the stairs and threw open the front door, just in time for him to run in and slam the door behind him. the only problem now was that the gunmen knew where he lived…
Everything went downhill from then on – none of my friends were allowed over to my house, and their parents disapproved of me going over to theirs instead. By the time the Easter holidays came around, I was pretty much friendless.
We would still walk home together in the big group, but once we reached the top of the hill, they would have to act like they weren’t with me, just in case their parents saw.
Walking up the hill together slowly turned into me walking up alone. Being Little Miss Popular turned into me eating lunch alone. Having a huge group of best friends turned into me, myself and I.
